


Scheherazade

by lukegray (spacebarista)



Category: The Following
Genre: Angst, Gen, twincest if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:58:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebarista/pseuds/lukegray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, the four times Mark refused to let Luke listen to him play violin, and the one time he asked him to listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scheherazade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [almostfamousgrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostfamousgrl/gifts).



> Written for almostfamousgrl for her birthday after I headcanoned Mark playing violin and being kind of defensive about, preferring not to have an audience. It's less sexual/fluffy/shiptastic than I've written for the Twins so far, but it was cool to kind of get out of that. If it's only the once.

Mark took a deep breath, and drew the bow over taut strings. It started out soft, as it always did. But as his uneasiness faded away, it crescendoed into a long, loud note that echoed through the conservatory. Mark often retreated to the warm, often deserted conservatory to practice violin. 

He could play Swan Lake beginning to end without stop or falter, same with The Rite of Spring. But his favorite piece to play had always been Scheherazade. And that is what he found himself playing for the plants in the glass room. The music started slow, happy, and Mark let his eyes close as he played, concentrating and enjoying the sounds he drew from the violin. 

But not three minutes into the piece, he felt eyes on him, and stopped. His eyes stayed closed and his bow stayed on the string, but his brows drew together in frustration. 

“Go away, Luke.”

There was a pause. Anyone else would have shrugged it off as their imagination, but Mark knew his brother was there, watching and listening.

“No.”

“Luke, you know I don’t like to play for an audience.”

“So?”

Mark huffed. “Please, just go.”

He waited, and soon heard footsteps head out of the room. He waited a little longer, and when the feeling of being watched was gone, resumed playing, just where he left off. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lily had gotten both twins to start playing when they were young, hoping to expand their cultured education further. Luke had gotten frustrated when he couldn’t get the hang of it as quickly as he hoped, and threw a tantrum that resulted in a broken instrument, bent stand, and the resignation of their teacher. But Mark stuck with it, and Lily found him a new teacher and took Luke to teach him something else. 

Mark started with the usual “Hot Cross Buns” and “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” that every other beginner starts with. He caught on quickly, and soon tried to add little variations that felt right and delighted his teacher. She started to leave him longer pieces, and he would take to the conservatory to test them out. 

The stand was always too tall for him. He would spend the first ten minutes of his self-designated two hours making sure it was just right. Then he’d check his tuning, run through some chords, and turn to his music sheets. He would start his new pieces slow. He played thoughtfully and methodically, understanding the placement and timing of the notes, making sure he knew them before he could take off with the piece. He liked to do this in the quiet of the conservatory, away from his mother’s expectant eyes or the hopeful gaze of his teacher or the angry glare of his brother, jealous that Mark was succeeding where he was not. For once. He played better when alone. 

He heard a crash behind him, and almost dropped his violin in shock. He whirled to seek the source, and found Luke standing next to a broken pot. Mark held his bow and violin behind his back, as if Luke would forget what he had been doing. 

“Go away, Luke!” His shrill voice echoed in the glass room, as his E-string had not moments before.

“Why?” Luke stepped over the broken pot, grinning. “Don’t want me to hear your little masterpiece?”

“Just go! Please!”

“Why though?!” Luke’s grin warped to a scowl. “Why can’t I listen?”

Mark’s little heart was racing. He didn’t know what to do; he didn’t want Luke angry with him, but he didn’t want him to stay either. He did the only thing he could think of. “MOM!”

Luke was punished, sent to his room without dinner for terrorizing his little brother. Mark ate with his head down, answering all of Lily’s questions about his teachers and what books he was reading. He was glad to have been saved by his mother, but not to have Luke in trouble. He went to the cook and got her to hand over some bread and water and cheese to take up to Luke. And if Luke was furious with him when he arrived, it soon dissipated at the sight of Mark’s apology. Mark watched him eat, and Luke let him curl up beside him in his bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Within a couple years, Mark jumped from his lighter pieces to pieces from musicals and works by Mozart and Stravinsky and Tchaikovsky and Rimsky-Korsakov. He astounded his teacher and his mother. He adored the Russian composers especially, as his birth mother had before him, Lily had told him one night after making him play for her. He’d suffered through the evening, but played perfectly. At his next lesson, his teacher voiced her desire to recommend him to a conservatory school to further his education and perhaps pave the road to joining an orchestra. Lily smiled tightly as Luke scowled at her in his usual fashion, and Lily asked to speak with her and sent Mark off to practice until they were done.

He was growing fonder of Rimsky-Korsakov. The flow of Scheherazade especially calmed him and gave him peace as he listened to it. His teacher had finally given him a book of the work, so he could practice and play it for her. She wanted to see if he could use it as an audition piece for the schools she had in mind. As he always did, he started off slow. It was easy this time, as the piece itself did. He drew out the notes, no matter what length, and hummed along softly to make sure his fingers were placed correctly, that his notes were spot on. 

He'd never tell his mother or his brother, but Mark liked the idea of going to a school for music. He could learn new pieces and integrate his playing into a group setting and meet people who liked what he liked and were on the same level as he. It could be great. He’d miss his mom and his brother… but he could play music. He could play violin the way it was meant to be played: in a group. But… did he even belong there? He’d never left home without Luke for long. Would he even feel comfortable there? Would he last? Doubt filled his mind and he tried to ignore it and play.

He heard the scuff of boots on stone, and ceased playing. The silence was heavier than any between the two of them.

“Go away, Luke.”

“Mother will never let you go to your fancy music school, you know.”

Mark turned and scowled at him, clutching his instrument to his chest. “You don’t know that. You know she knows I love my music.”

Luke’s grin was unnerving. Mark couldn’t read his exact emotions, and that scared him. Mark could always read Luke. “We’re a family, Mark. You can’t leave family.” He closed the distance between them, and stood less than a foot from him. “Why would you ever want to leave, anyway?”

Mark blinked. “I… I just…” He sighed, raising a hand to pull his bangs into his eyes. “I want to play music. I want to play music with other people. To be a part of something–”

“You are a part of something, Mark!” Luke grabbed Mark’s arm and shook him. “You’re a part of our family!”

Mark jerked back, rubbing his arm rapidly. “I’m sorry. I know, I’m sorry.”

Luke backed up, his expression softening for a split second before slipping back into his usual mask. He tilted his chin up and spun on his heel, striding out without looking back even once. Mark didn’t play again until after his teacher returned, white-faced.

She never mentioned the school again. And Mark never asked.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It had been years since Mark considered going to a music school, and as he stormed through the house, violin case and stand in hand, he fleetingly wished he’d just gone. If only for the guaranteed space to play in. 

The conservatory was off limits to him, and anyone else for that matter. Lily was having it renovated after she found panes of glass cracked and falling out of their frames. And now he had nowhere to play. Upon confronting her about his, his mother pointed him to the music room. It had never felt right to him. It wasn’t the right space. People could hear him in there. But it was the only place, and he couldn’t just skip practice for a day. 

Mark turned down the hall, and froze. Was that… the piano? He held still, straining his ears. It was. It was the piano. He huffed, and strode towards the music room. As he got closer, the music began to sound familiar. Too familiar. He shifted everything into one hand and shoved the door open. 

Luke was sitting at the piano, hunched over the keys as he gently, and perfectly, played the piano accompaniment to Scheherazade. He gaped at his brother, who played with his eyes closed. If he noticed Mark’s entrance, he didn’t let it show. He continued to play, humming along softly. When he finished, he sat still, letting the final notes fade away. He didn’t look at Mark.

“So. What do you think?”

Mark floundered, not sure what to say. “I… when… how?”

Luke ran his fingers over the keys, still not looking at his brother. “You wanted someone to play with, right? So I’ve been working on it.”

“How didn’t I know?”

Luke chuckled at that, finally turning to look at him. “You were always playing in the conservatory. I figured I could surprise you.”

Mark nodded slowly. It made sense. He rarely went to the music room. Luke could practice in secret as long as Mark was playing. “It’s… very good Luke. Really good.”

Luke smiled for real this time, wide and proud. Mark felt the corners of his mouth quirk ever so slightly in response. “So then, little brother. You want to play with me? We could make some beautiful music together.”

“I…” Mark looked between his violin case, clutched to his chest, and his brother at the piano. They were far apart, but the distance might as well have been a foot from the way Mark’s heart hammered in his chest. He couldn’t believe Luke would actually take the time to learn what Mark loved to play. It was amazing. But he didn’t want to. He couldn’t. What if he made a mistake? He couldn’t screw up in front of his big brother. He shook his head, and Luke’s smile faded. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” He turned and left the room, heading for the art studio. He could make do there. 

If he could forget the disappointment Luke could barely mask. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  

Giselle was dead. 

The words ran through Mark’s head as he walked down to the conservatory. Over and over. Hollow. 

Giselle was dead. 

It had been a long time since Mark had seen Luke lose his cool demeanor as he had with Lily. Of course, Giselle and Luke had been very close. They always had been. They had the same attitude, same sense of humor, same confidence. Sometimes Mark wondered if Luke would have preferred Giselle as his twin, instead of him. Only sometimes. They just seemed… right together.

But she was gone. And Mark was worried about Luke.

He didn’t know what to do at first. He did know that it was on him to keep Luke from flying off the handle and doing something stupid, as it always was. What could he do to keep Luke, always moving, always thinking, always plotting Luke, to sit down and shut up?

He figured it out then. 

When he walked into the humid room, Luke was sitting in a wicker chair, dressed and silent, staring into the trees and flowers. Mark took a deep breath. He needed this to work. He didn’t want to lose Luke like Giselle. He cleared his throat, and Luke looked lazily in his direction.

“Yeah, I’m here. Why’d you tell me to meet you?”

Mark simply pulled his violin from behind his back. A moment of shock registered on Luke’s face, and then it was gone behind a mask of quasi-interest. Mark strode over to stand in front of him, and their gazes didn’t break. 

“I’m going to play you something.”

Luke let out a puff of laughter, rubbing his eyes. “I thought you didn’t play for anyone, Mark.”

“I think I can make an exception.”

Luke stared at him, mouth open slightly. Mark waited, fiddling with his bow, for Luke to give him a sign that he would stay. Mark understood if he didn’t. But then Luke smiled, and settled back in the chair. 

“All right. Let me see what you’ve got.”

Mark nodded, and rested the violin between his chin and his shoulder. His heart started to race, but he closed his eyes and breathed deep. He could pretend Luke wasn’t there. He could make it work. He could play perfectly.

He put the bow to strings, and started to play.

There was a bit of irony to playing Scheherazad to his brother. The story of a woman telling tales to her new husband every night, to stall him from executing her was now a way to stall his brother from killing himself with Ryan Hardy’s bullet. He couldn’t see Luke’s face. He wondered if there was awe. Affection. Joy. Anything, that wasn’t his blank mask that shut Mark out. 

Mark glided through the long, slow sections, and bounced through the fast and happier ones. He didn’t miss a single note. It felt fresher, stronger than it ever had. But plangent. He knew why. It had to be. He bit his lip and screwed his face in concentration as he got closer to the end. He pleaded with himself, with anyone who would listen that Luke understood what he was trying to do. And when he reached the end, he breathed deep again to keep any tears away. 

He didn’t open his eyes at first; he just let his arms fall away, holding tightly to bow and bridge. Both brothers stayed in silence. All Mark could hear was his own breathing, and he wondered if Luke was even there. But then he heard soft clapping, and opened his eyes to Luke grinning proudly. 

“Wow, Mark. Mother wasn’t lying. You are good.” He stood with a heavy sigh, and clapped Mark on the shoulder. “Maybe we should have sent you off to that school after all, huh?”

Mark grinned modestly and shook his head. “Luke… I was never going to leave. It was just a thought, once. It would never have felt right. Without mother. Or you.”

Luke smiled back, nodding. But then his smile faded just slightly, and Mark knew.

He failed. 

“Well, thanks, baby brother, for that amazing performance. We’ll have to do it again sometime, wherever we end up next.”

“Yeah…”

Luke clapped his shoulder again. “Anyway, I gotta run. Got some business to take care of before we go.” He released Mark with a nod, then turned to leave. “Don’t let mom work you too hard with all the arrangements."

Mark watched him, not sure what to say. He found his voice just as Luke stepped through the doorway. “Hey, Luke!”

There was a moment’s hesitation, then Luke peeked his head back in. “Yeah?”

“I…” Mark opened his mouth, but nothing more came out. He looked to the floor. What could he say? How could he say it? But then Luke laughed, and he looked up in confusion.

Luke was smiling. A real smile.

“Don’t worry. I know. I’ll see you at the airfield.”

He winked. And he was gone.

Mark’s next breath was shaky. He hoped so. He certainly hoped so.


End file.
